once there was, and once there wasn’t

 

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'once upon a time' in other languages: 

 

korean: “back when tigers used to smoke” (호랑이 담배 피우던 시절에) [x]

czech: “beyond seven mountain ranges, beyond seven rivers” (za sedmero horami a sedmero řekami)

georgian: “there was, and there was not, there was…” (იყო და არა იყო რა, იყო…)

hausa: “a story, a story. let it go, let it come.” [x]

romanian: “there once was, (as never before)… because if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t have been told” (A fost odată, ca niciodată că dacă n-ar fi fost, nu s-ar mai povesti…)

lithuanian: “beyond nine seas, beyond nine lagoons: (už devynių jūrų, už devynių marių)

catalan: “see it here that in that time in which beasts spoke and people were silent…” (vet aquí que en aquell temps que les bèsties parlaven i les persones callaven…) [x]

turkish: “Once there was, and once there wasn’t. In the long-distant days of yore, when haystacks winnowed sieves, when genies played jereed in the old bathhouse, [when] fleas were barbers, [when] camels were town criers, [and when] I softly rocked my baby grandmother to sleep in her creaking cradle, there was/lived, in an exotic land, far, far away, a/an…* (Bir varmış, bir yokmuş. Evvel zaman içinde, kalbur saman içinde, cinler cirit oynar iken eski hamam içinde, pireler berber [iken], develer tellal [iken], ben ninemin beşiğini tıngır mıngır sallar iken, uzak diyarların birinde…)

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The language of birds is very ancient, and like other ancient modes of speech, very elliptical; little is said, but much is meant and understood. 


—Gilbert White
Letter XLIII, Selborne, 

9 September 1778

 

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(all) creatures have territories ...

for some birds, their song is a fence.

—Wendell Berry 

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questions

 

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All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.

My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.

The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.

If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.


—Rumi
Coleman Barks version

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no(thing

  

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There is nothing to do. Just be. 
Do nothing. Be. 

No climbing mountains and sitting in caves. 
I do not even say: ‘be yourself’, since you do not know yourself. 

Just be. 

Having seen that you are neither the ‘outer’ world of perceivables,
nor the ‘inner’ world of thinkables, that you are neither body nor mind, 
just be.


—Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

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soften now

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Brick and mortar
And solid as the ground
But you're carrying too much
And slowly breaking down
Cannon fodder
And looking to escape
The heaviness of all your mistakes

Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now
Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now

You wish you weren't, but you're falling down again
It's been a hard road full of lessons
Feeling hungry and trapped in solitude
The way that we choose to look at things is an attitude
Looking at the skyline tonight I choose gratitude

Weighing down, don't let it wеigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to lеt things soften now
Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now

You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now
I waited for you like you waited for me too
We didn't get it right, but wanted to

Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now
Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now

You've been so hard on yourself
That it's time to let things soften now


—Julian Taylor
Weighing Down

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beauti(ful

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You suppose that you are the lock on the door
But you are the key that opens it

It’s too bad that you want to be someone else

You don’t see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.


—Rumi

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every trust survives

 

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I said it to you for the clouds
I said it to you for the tree of the sea
For each wave for the birds in the leaves
For the pebbles of sound
For familiar hands
For the eye that becomes landscape or face
And sleep returns it the heaven of its colour
For all that night drank
For the network of roads
For the open window for a bare forehead
I said it to you for your thoughts for your words
Every caress every trust survives.


—Paul Eluard

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in(visible

 

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Consciousness is a system of how space feeds back on itself, which is a dynamic that could generate self-awareness.

In order to be self-aware, you have to have feedback.

Consciousness is a feedback between the external world and the internal world.  

That is fundamental to ALL things.


—Nassim Harmein

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what has been, is no(thing

 

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The path to heaven lies through heaven,

and all the way to heaven is heaven.

—Catherine of Siena

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The bird has no path; 
where the bird flies is the path.

The fish has no path in water;
wherever it swims is the path.


—The Upanishads 

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Rather the flying bird, leaving no trace
Than the going beast
Marking the earth with his track.

The bird flies by and forgets
(As is only right). The beast
Where he no longer is
(And is therefore no use)
Marks that he was there before
(Which is also no use).

For to remember is to betray
Nature, since the nature of yesterday
Is not nature.
What has been, is nothing.
Remembering
Is failure to see.

Move on, bird, move on, teach me
To move on.


—Fernando Pessoa
Thomas Merton version

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The moon is the earth’s conscience. —Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)

 

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The moon, it turns out, is a great place for men. One-sixth gravity must be a lot of fun, and when Armstrong and Aldrin went into their bouncy little dance, like two happy children, it was a moment not only of triumph but of gaiety. 

The moon, on the other hand, is a poor place for flags. Ours looked stiff and awkward, trying to float on the breeze that does not blow. (There must be a lesson here somewhere.) It is traditional, of course, for explorers to plant the flag, but it struck us, as we watched with awe and admiration and pride, that our two fellows were universal men, not national men, and should have been equipped accordingly. 

Like every great river and every great sea, the moon belongs to none and belongs to all. It still holds the key to madness, still controls the tides that lap on shores everywhere, still guards the lovers who kiss in every land under no banner but the sky. What a pity that in our moment of triumph we did not forswear the familiar Iwo Jima scene and plant instead a device acceptable to all: a limp white handkerchief, perhaps, symbol of the common cold, which, like the moon, affects us all, unites us all.

—E. B. White
July 26, 1969

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here i came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning.


—Pablo Neruda

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if i were the moon

  

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She kept a diary, in which she wrote impulsive thoughts.  

Seeing the moon in the sky, her own heart surcharged, 
she went and wrote: 

‘If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.’

—D. H. Lawrence 
The Rainbow

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among the multitudes

  

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I am who I am.
A coincidence no less unthinkable
than any other. 

I could have different 

ancestors, after all. 

I could have fluttered 

from another nest 

or crawled bescaled 

from another tree. 

Nature's wardrobe 

holds a fair 

supply of costumes: 

Spider, seagull, fieldmouse. 

each fits perfectly right off 

and is dutifully worn 

into shreds. 

I didn't get a choice either, 

but I can't complain. 

I could have been someone 

much less separate, 

someone from an anthill, shoal, or buzzing swarm, 

an inch of landscape ruffled by the wind. 

Someone much less fortunate, 

bred for my fur 

or Christmas dinner, 

something swimming under a square of glass. 

A tree rooted to the ground 

as the fire draws near. 

A grass blade trampled by a stampede 

of incomprehensible events. 

A shady type whose darkness 

dazzled some.

What if I'd prompted only fear, 

Loathing, 

or pity? 

If I'd been born 

in the wrong tribe 

with all roads closed before me? 

Fate has been kind 

to me thus far. 

I might never have been given 

the memory of happy moments 

My yen for comparison 

might have been taken away. 

I might have been myself minus amazement, 

that is, 

someone completely different.


—Wislawa Szymborska
Among the Multitudes

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here we stand

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I and this mystery; here we stand.

—Walt Whitman

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come to the conclusion

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You know you are. 

How do you know it? 

And with what do you know it? 

This is the sum total of my teaching needed to put you on the right track, its very quintessence.

Come to the conclusion: I am unborn, I was unborn and I shall remain unborn.

Be aware of being conscious and seek the source of consciousness.

That is all.


—Nisargadatta Maharaj

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clearly

Earth and Moon as seen from Space by Japanese satellite Himawari-8

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The world is sacred, of course,
it is full of gods, numina,
great powers and presences.

We give some of them names –
Mars of the fields and the war;
Vesta the fire;
Ceres the grain;
Mother Tellus the earth;
the Penates of the storehouse.
The rivers, the springs.

And in the stormcloud and
the light is the great power
called the father god.

But they aren’t people.
They don’t love and hate,
they aren’t for or against.
They accept the worship due them,
which augments their power,
through which we live.


—Ursula K. Le Guin (1929 - 2018)

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This material dimension is just samsara. See it and you see samsara for what it’s worth. But what does it mean? 

Nothing but shifting names and changing forms. But when the ego drops away you experience this Flux. And it is beautiful not just because it is dazzling, but because the act of seeing it as it is necessitates the ego’s oblivion. The Veil is lifted and you see clearly.


—Chuang Tzu
excerpts

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wait - what ?

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love, and do as you like! —St. Augustine

 

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People who exude love are apt to give things away. They are in every way like rivers; they stream. And so when they collect possessions and things they like, they are apt to give them to other people. 

Because, have you ever noticed that when you start giving things away, you keep getting more?


—Alan Watts

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Effortlessly,
Love flows from God to man,
Like a bird
Who rivers the air
Without moving her wings.

Thus we move in His world
One in body and soul,
Though outwardly separate in form.

As the Source strikes the note,
Humanity sings -
The Holy Spirit is our harpist,
And all the strings
Which are touched in Love
Must sound.


—Mechtild of Magdeburg
(1210-1282)

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free(dom

 

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Imagining we have free will is
exactly as if water spoke to itself:  

I can make waves 
(yes! in the sea during a storm), 

I can rush downhill 
(yes! in the river bed), 

I can plunge down foaming and gushing 
(yes! in the waterfall), 

I can rise freely as a stream of water into the air 
(yes! in the fountain), 

I can, finally, boil away and disappear 
(yes! at a certain temperature); 

but I am doing none of these things now, 
and am of my own accord remaining quiet 
and clear water in the reflecting pond.


—Arthur Schopenhauer

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the law that marries all things

   

andy goldsworthy

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1.
The cloud is free only
to go with the wind. 

The rain is free
only in falling. 

The water is free only
in its gathering together, 

in its downward courses,
in its rising into the air. 

2.
In law is rest
if you love the law,
if you enter, singing, into it
as water in its descent. 

3.
Or song is truest law,
and you must enter singing;
it has no other entrance. 

It is the great chorus
of parts. The only outlawry
is in division. 

4.
Whatever is singing
is found, awaiting the return
of whatever is lost. 

5.
Meet us in the air
over the water,
sing the swallows. 

Meet me, meet me,
the redbird sings,
here here here here.


—Wendell Berry

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question

 

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Do you think I know what I'm doing? 

That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?

As much as a pen knows what it's writing, 

or the ball can guess where it's going next. 


—Rumi 

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if you live well

hero

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1. India

In India in their lives they happen
again and again, being people or
animals. And if you live well
your next time could be even better.

That's why they often look into your eyes
and you know some far-off story
with them and you in it, and some
animal waiting over at the side.

Who would want to happen just once?
It's too abrupt that way, and
when you're wrong, it's too late
to go back - you've done it forever.

And you can't have that soft look when you
pass, the way they do it in India.

2. Having It Be Tomorrow

Day, holding its lantern before it,
moves over the whole earth slowly
to brighten that edge and push it westward.
Shepherds on upland pastures begin fires
for breakfast, beads of light that extend
miles of horizon. Then it's noon and
coasting toward a new tomorrow.

If you're in on that secret, a new land
will come every time the sun goes
climbing over it, and the welcome of children
will remain every day new in your heart.
Those around you don't have it new,
and they shake their heads turning grey every
morning when the sun comes up. And you laugh.

3. Being Nice And Old

After their jobs are done old people
cackle together. They look back and shiver,
all of that was so dizzying when it happened;
and now if there is any light at all it
knows how to rest on the faces of friends.
And any people you don't like, you just turn
the page a little more and wait while they
find out what time is and begin to bend
lower; or you can turn away
and let them drop off the edge of the world.

4. Good Ways To Live

At night outside it all moves or
almost moves - trees, grass,
touches of wind. The room you have
in the world is ready to change.
Clouds parade by, and stars in their
configurations. Birds from far
touch the fabric around them - you can
feel their wings move. Somewhere under
the earth it waits, that emanation
of all things. It breathes. It pulls you
slowly out through doors or windows
and you spread in the thin halo of night mist.

—William Stafford
ways to live
written just over a month before William Stafford's death in August, 1993
hero

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braiding sweetgrass

    

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In a mist of light 

falling with the rain

I walk this ground

of which dead men

and women I have loved

are part, as they

are part of me. In earth,

in blood, in mind,

the dead and living

into each other pass,

as the living pass

in and out of loves

as stepping to a song.

The way I go is

marriage to this place,

grace beyond chance,

love’s braided dance

covering the world.

—Wendell Berry

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When the blood of your veins returns to the sea and the dust of your bones returns to the ground, maybe then will you remember that this earth does not belong to you, you belong to this earth.

—Sweetgrass

Native American Prophet

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cosmic life

Mariya Golub

“Morning is Breathing”, 2020

Acrylic on Canvas, 80 × 90 cm

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Now we have to get back the cosmos, and it can’t be done by a trick. The great range of responses that have fallen dead in us have to come to life again. It has taken two thousand years to kill them. Who knows how long it will take to bring them to life.

When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos. 

It is nothing human and personal that we are short of. What we lack is cosmic life, the sun in us and the moon in us.

—D.H. Lawrence

Apocalypse

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wait

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love flows down

 

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Love comes with a knife, not some 
shy question, and not with fears 
for its reputation! I say 
these things disinterestedly. Accept them 
in kind. Love is a madman 

working his wild schemes, tearing off his clothes, 
running through the mountains, drinking poison, 
and now quietly choosing annihilation. 

You've been walking the ocean’s edge, 
holding up your robes to keep them dry. 
You must dive naked under and deeper under, 
a thousand times deeper! Love flows down. 

The ground submits to the sky and suffers 
what comes. Tell me, is the earth worse 
for giving in like that? 

Don’t put blankets over the drum! 
Open completely. Let your spirit-ear 
listen to the green dome’s passionate murmur. 

Let the cords of your robe be untied. 
Shiver in this new love beyond all 
above and below. The sun rises, but which way 
does night go? I have no more words. 

Let soul speak with the silent 
articulation of a face.


—Jelalludin Rumi 1207 – 1273
Coleman Barks version

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heart of the swallow

Beth Moon, The Lovers, Morondava, Madagascar, 2006

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They made love among the hazel shrubs

beneath the suns of dew,

entangling in their hair

a leafy residue.

Heart of the swallow

have mercy on them. 

They knelt down by the lake,

combed out the earth and leaves,

and fish swam to the water's edge

shimmering like stars.

Heart of the swallow

have mercy on them.

The reflections of trees were steaming

off the rippling waves.

O swallow let this memory

forever be engraved.

O swallow, thorn of clouds,

anchor of the air,

Icarus improved,

Assumption in formal wear,

O swallow, the calligrapher,

timeless second hand,

early ornithogothic,

a crossed eye in the sky,

O swallow, pointed silence,

mourning full of joy,

halo over lovers,

have mercy on them.

—Wislawa Szymborska

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love letters

   

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Every day, priests minutely examine the Law

And endlessly chant complicated sutras.

Before doing that, though, they should learn

How to read the love letters sent by the wind

and rain, the snow and moon.


—Ikkyu
Sonya Arutzen version

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